Enter Destination
by Homeslice
Summary: And it's on the tip of your nose. [A Collection of Unconnected Drabbles] Incestual relations, violence, minimal smut, language, and various mature substances.
1. Limp

_**Please read the author's note after reading the below listed drabble, as it is significantly important over matters with when I will update a serious story or one-shot afterwards. **_

The whisper of death is just beyond the friction of scarlet ruffles rubbing against silk sheets, the tones both entirely enticing and frighteningly similar. There is the simple knowledge of when this happened, like he remembers the dull mockery of Itachi's voice that came out more truthfully than from his brother's throat as the corpses of their parents hit the floor. Everything is utterly truthful here, where words are only in between the awkward smear of lips and the wood boards scolding them with Mikoto's accusational finger grinding the sin into their foreheads, places Itachi presses his forefingers into as he smiles and shows Sasuke that the limbs he touches him with are, if anything, worthless. He can hold a kunai with his thumb and ring finger and not waste the effort of making any of his body parts significant.

Sasuke wonders briefly if he can cut off the limbs Itachi uses on him now. _Do your hands mean something, or can you hold the shuriken with your ankles? _There is another scream from the tatami mats, bloodstains shaping into the form of a long-deceased mother because if Itachi is already breaking words than she can surely defy the fact her son imprinted into everyone's heads that she is _dead. _

Skin on skin is an awkward cry not suitable to the ones flooding out of their lips like Fugaku's scorn. He is still hiding in the curve on the tips of their noses and the firm way they hold their shoulders, so _no one _can push them down.

Mikoto's resemblance to them is enough so she is _alive _in every judging glance of the passerby or the distant glare of their reflection in the mirror. Itachi can slaughter every man who was ever related to him, but he does not go so far as to shed every feature of his body that is still shying away from the ideals of a man who has no family. It is still there in bold print, in the all-knowing laugh of the townsfolk that, _you've still got a mother, boy, and your father is on the tip of your nose instead of right underneath it, so he's not something you can hide. _

She rises over the bedspread and the shadow of her brings the kunai into Itachi's chest. Everything is truthful here, the smile on Itachi's face and the blood on Sasuke's hands that tells him it wasn't a dream and he just did something very, very wrong.

Mommy's slap resounds across the room, but Sasuke doesn't remember whose hand it is.

**AN: **_Well, this was just a 'practice' drabble to exercise myself so I can get ready for something serious, but if ya'll like it anyway that'd be pretty damn tight. I still love reviews, meaning you get the honorary…_

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(I've still got it baby! Boop boop be doop, ah!)


	2. Yellow

The first mission Team Seven receives is to clean Kakashi's apartment, and that was just for the sake of tradition. He remembers his sensei assigning the exact same task, saying the exact same things-and thinks that ultimately, every man will grow up to be somebody who was kind enough to leave them their shadow. Rin is gone, Obito is dead, and if everything fits into tradition as snug as Kakashi fit into his teacher's empty space, perhaps it will only be Sasuke left standing and taking Kakashi's shoes (Naruto has taken them, but Naruto is unchangeably literal and thinks tying a knot over his toes with Kakashi's worn laces will somehow stretch himself into a different person).

Naruto wants to be Kakashi, and it is his way of being a child. For if Kakashi is only the shaded figure within his father's shadow, then if he becomes Kakashi he will just as easily be the Yondaime. He does not realize that the colors are all wrong, that Kakashi's hair is silver and no matter how fast he spins he only receives nausea instead of the craved result of yellow. As a genin, he remembers spinning in circles for hours, (for days, really, because according to your memory it's the only logical thing that makes it a blur) and never once getting sick to his stomach. He would only stop when he fell just to feel the arms of people catch him, and to remind himself that falling is what he will always do best.

He falls faster than the Konoha leaves and surely faster than any other of the shinobi there, and while once there was a man who would stop the process now there is only awed faces quickly stepping into blurs and the shadow of the person who would have never let it go this far (especially not in his sake).

The second mission is his laundry, all so he morphs his figure into growing two more inches and not letting his rib bones jut out quite so badly. All his clothes are four sizes too big, and Sakura thinks her teacher is rubbing it over their faces that there is something wrong, except all he really wanted to do was state to his best friend's grave later that day that his new genin team dried his clothes so he can convince the dead who he is.

He is not Naruto's father, just the demented outline, and a part of him still doesn't want to come to color. If Naruto steps into his shoes with the full meaning, than yellow will return to a figure that Kakashi has worked so hard to have silver. Somehow passing along a shadow that is supposed to be his is not what he wanted to happen, so he gives it to a different student and hopes that Uchihas grow gray hair when they get old.

_**Summary:** The only logic to the flash of faces in his mind's eye that is not stained with a sharingan limit is that his teacher never really left. _

_**AN: **Another drabble for your entertainments. Hoorah. _

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(And Kankuro will give you fudge)


	3. Cutting Board

There's his mother's stocking in his bedroom drawer. There used to be black sequins framing the rim, where it might come up to Mikoto's thigh, but he imagines Fugaku's fingers kneading them in thin strokes that resemble the roll of his hips. Sasuke watches, and Mikoto watches him until her eyes roll up to the head board and she cries out (And she is lucky that garbled names sound so much like her husband's when she tries hard enough to sound pleased).

It is another secret that is in between the press of her index finger against his lips, like when she uses Itachi's kunai to dice the tomato over the cutting board. He is a fourth her age and the multiplied years are sliced into a fine paste with the ease of her wink (Sasuke never fails to notice that it is only with her left eye, which is the exact side that she wore the stocking which he stole).

Two years later and Sasuke thinks of her blood as the same color of the juices that run onto the cutting board from a tomato, and almost laughs at the irony that the kunai that cracked the side of her pelvis is the same blade she used on vegetables, and it juts just out of the center of the left of her hip.

He wonders if she pressed her finger to Itachi's lips as well, and thinks that that would be very unsatisfying.

There is only one red stain in his house, which is the one on the wooden cutting board, even if he is sure that Mikoto never changed the sheets before she bled onto the flooring like the tomatoes she sliced for him. There might be little less than crimson on her bedding, but Sasuke never had the heart to check and it could've just been her tears.

There is nothing left but to leave it behind with the squeal of the Konohagakure gates sounding out cries too similar to his mattress pad, and the hushed shushing of his mother as she wiped red off a knife.

**AN: **_I'll dedicate this to LucyMonostone, though I don't think she'd enjoy how I write the Uchiha's shenanigans. I don't think anybody does. –Gasp- But anywhoo, I was inspired by the leg lamp on 'A Christmas Story', which aired on the teley for the five hundredth and twelfth time this morning. Had to write something about Mikoto's undies, and stockings are classier anyway. Enjoy the drabble, folks. _

**Summary: **_Secrets are more than the hurried whispers of children scampering across the kitchen granite to snatch cookies from the jar on the countertop. _

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(Or Hansel never survived)


	4. Tall Tale

It is undeniable to the majority of those who have met them that the limits of their ability to pretend cease to exist. Just as bitterly unavoidable as the traits that mark them as their parent's sons, it is a distinct disruption of each of their goals that their imaginations go beyond their holding. As Itachi is indecisive whether he prefers death or power and Sasuke over his own choices of family or revenge, they are constantly distracted by their subconscious which has already chosen which path to tread.

It is unmistakably a futile try to regain the situation, because Itachi's power and Sasuke's hatred has been blended to the point it is as much a bodily function as their skins (as much as they were shed, they remain as a literal reminder of their humanity so their souls will not escape their bones in a mistake they both fear that somehow their rapidly decreasing minds will be tricked with death before it is time to die).

Therefore, sanity is a small part of their lives and the insanity becomes a clever piece that is perfectly aware of how any man with judgment would behave. They, despite their own roughly prodded fingers in each other's directions, have only made one mistake in their lives, and that was underestimating the true brilliance of delirium.

They will, years later, admit to the fact that it was not hatred or power or lust of both that caused their mind's to shift in state so unwittingly, but the mixture within their genetics of Mikoto's anxiety and Fugaku's stern air. And yet, they believe it is somehow not factors of their madness. To Itachi, people who have died beneath his own hands have no effect on him in their graves, and to Sasuke, a clan that has stayed more sane then they were even at their births couldn't possibly cause them to function at such states as their own. To Sasuke, his family was perfectly right minded, and to Itachi even if they weren't they were already dead.

The conclusion that is claiming the responsibility to their own selves is little other than impossible, but still utterly wholesome in its truth. And it has almost become acceptable to them.

Therefore, when Itachi fades into the brother he used to be Sasuke can convince himself past the truth while wrapped in a lie- that Itachi was simply trying to hurt him more in the end. And when Sasuke whispers names in a Mangekyou induced sleep, Itachi is able to pretend that it is only the mindless babbling of an unconscious state. They meet at the end with their lips pressed together, anything other than accidental, and somehow they can pretend it was perfect.

**AN: **So I was trying to write a birthday fic for LucyMonostone, mmkay? And this was supposed to be Ita/Kaka/Sasu like she asked for, right? And then it kind of…melted. And I'm only posting this to rebel against my stubborn mind, whom of which is still claiming that every single piece of the above one-shot is absolute crap. And probably is, I won't deny it that, but I will try every damn way on the face of the universe to get out of this month long writer's block or my name isn't Tobi Siskin. Damn tootin'. I WILL get LucyMonostone's birthday fic out in time, I will, I will, I will. Err…Hopefully. But if you liked this, or any other of my stories listed, please review. It makes me happy.

**Summary: **_Through it all, they can pretend everything will work out in the end. _

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

And…The filler arc of the Naruto anime will end?)


	5. UgLyBeAuTiFuL

_**THIS IS NOT SASORIxCHIYO THIS IS NOT SASORIxCHIYO THIS IS NOT SASORIxCHIYO**_

Sasori is the most beautiful ugly thing Chiyo has ever seen. He is as she remembered him, perhaps not only because he has built layer upon layer of eternity over himself- She thinks she would probably always see him as the same child of fourteen that sat next to her on the swing-bench back at their home in Suna, where his eyes weren't so cheaply real, and they saw only the sand and a grandmother who loved him more than a boy his age could understand.

An adolescent boy's eyes don't see blood or age or destruction, but now Sasori has trained himself to see all the wrinkles she's collected over the years and recite the number back to her. She is surprised at how many there are, because she hasn't counted for a long time. She hasn't bothered remembering anything for a long time, and she thinks his eyes can see that, too.

Chiyo thinks back to when she said to a man standing before her, that she only wanted to see her grandson's face before her death. She thinks it wasn't a very smart wish; that all the lessons and fairy tales she told the boy in front of her so long ago are all falling back into place, and all the times she told Sasori to be careful what he wished for was a slap stinging even more than the remorse.

Chiyo is a puppet master, and the first moment Sasori takes a step towards her, she realizes that she has never been anything else. She has not been a mother to her children, has not been a grandmother to her grandchild, and when she is left little more than an hour later with the person she failed at the most lying dead beside her, she can't help but crawl over to the other red-headed boy who looks so much like her Sasori and give everything back to him.

And she ponders over the number of wrinkles she has as she lies next to her grandson to die, watching all the lights fade from the world and pretending they are beautiful again.

_**Summary: **And no matter how many screws and bolts she's locked into her marionettes, she can not fix her grandson. _

**_AN: _**So I couldn't get to sleep, probably because I took a nap accidentally right after dinnertime, and felt randomly inspired and in writing mode. I'm not one to complain about feeling author-ish, so I was pretty pleased with myself since I'm normally in writer's block. I've wanted to write something about Sasori for months now, as well as for Chiyo. So now, I'm a little bit better. But I might write more on those two. How I love them. Please, please, please…

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(Because honestly people…it's the Suna thing to do)


	6. Count to Six Hundred and Seventy Five

They're counting the times they've allowed themselves to brush their hands together, how many times Ukon has rested his head in the crook of Sakon's shoulder feigning sleep, even if he knows as well as Sakon knows that he is very much awake that they cannot fool each other by faking indifference.

They've counted the number of their allies when they first set their sights on them, and that made little impact on their sense of time because it was still frustratingly amazing their lack of trustworthy ninjas on their side. They've counted how many times they've sworn to themselves they don't trust them anyway, how many times they've reduced their numbers to zero because of it and brought the scores back up with the realization of each other. They've counted how many times they've considered themselves as one person, and now it's almost the same with the bodies pressed so close even after they're separate.

They've counted the maximum amount of times Tayuya swears in a sentence, how many times Kidomaru will glance over his shoulder because he's the only one smart enough to not think anyone will merely walk behind his back. They've counted how many looks Jirobo has assigned to the corners, because he's aware enough of his surroundings to not take them for granted as much as they do. And ultimately, all the things they've added up in their head still doesn't make sense, because no matter how many times they've counted something –whether the food shoveled into Jirobo's mouth or the tongue running across Orochimaru's upper lip to collect the sweat of being in a dank, blackened layer with nothing but wetness and sweat and hatred to live by- it is nowhere close to being the same amount of times they've looked at each other and known it was wrong.

It was wrong that no matter how much they know what's happening with each other, they refuse to say it aloud and admit something. After all, if they are anything, Sakon and Ukon are stubborn, and stubborn people don't admit they love someone.

They're counting the times they dream of each other, and ignoring how many times they wake up to realize it's never going to happen.

…Because, if they can surround themselves with enough numbers and words that aren't their own, it just might take up enough time until they die and don't have to count the sinister, chaste little kisses they share in between all the math.

_**Summary: **A little slip-up here and there-fingers sliding to the other's- they can ignore, because it's probably not as bad as all the times that don't escape them when they refuse to let the other know that they just might love them more than they should. _

**_AN: _**I got this idea off of another Sakon and Ukon story, but this took the whole 'counting' thing a lot differently, and also had them in incest. So meh. Anyway, hopefully she doesn't mind that I snatched her 'counting' thing-y, though this was a lot different, but you get the point. I hope you liked it.

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(And you'll save…kittens…and souls)


	7. Come, Come, Paradise

The hands tracing his hipbones are too small, too slender, too rough and callused and ultimately, not what Kakashi thought they would be. He doesn't let people touch him like this- But Sasuke is always the exception, the boy who pulls down his mask without his protest and who brushes his cheek too lightly for him to be comfortable, because he knows Sasuke is just doing it to make him think they're in love.

He knows as well as Sasuke that they are incapable of it, incapable of feeling or emotions ever since Kakashi stepped into a room of his father's blood and Sasuke stepped into his family dojo with his brother reversing everything he'd been told before that while showing him the one fact he never wanted to know of how much blood his parents could bleed out onto the floor with a katana shoved into their chests. But they can pretend, even if it hurts.

Maybe it's easier, because they both like pain more than they should, and maybe that's why they're the only people they could be together with for more than a one-night stand.

But Kakashi thinks, 'isn't that what this is?', even if the thought is lost within their next movements.

Kakashi and Sasuke think alike too much for their own good, because they both know this won't last more than a few nights when they're feeling too lonely to be alone. That's how it always goes, one person moving to another –like a plague-, and as long as they can share warmth for a night or two it's good enough to continue. But this, Kakashi thinks (wondering if Sasuke is thinking that too, because after all, they think alike even if they won't admit it), this is not what they expected.

It's all wrong, in size and shape and body heat, because they're both as cold as the other. They both smell of sweat and blood and self-loathing (even if it doesn't have a smell, they recognize it from themselves in all the little movements that are too hesitant and too rough and prodding like what they've been trained to be), but it's all made up of little kinks and they last throughout the night.

The hands on his shoulders are tight and pliant and Kakashi likes what he feels.

And he hears Sasuke whisper as he drags them down to the bed, "Come, come, paradise."

_**Summary: **Kakashi doesn't think the fantasies written in all the pornography books he reads are too far off. _

**_AN: _**Well, I've been a busy little bee, haven't I? This is **based off the (rough) translation of Jiraiya's Icha Icha Paradise books**, and since I know no Japanese I couldn't say that 'Come, Come, Paradise' is the correct one, at that. But hopefully, you get the point. I figured I'd write this, namely because I got the idea for Kakashi and his books and him thinking they're not that unrealistic (check the summary above), and also because LucyMonostone would hate me forever if I didn't have some KakaSasu, I figure. So, tad ah, here you go! Hopefully all ye reviewers will enjoy! AND:

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(And I won't try to put clever things in the parenthesis?  Lies!)


	8. In the Holes

"_The angry boy is back." It all started with the curt whisper of the homeless child on the corner of his street; ending between the secretive murmurs behind the backs of their raised palms and the flutter of butterfly lashes after supper, supplied with the small, quiet exchange of, 'Do you want to go to bed with me?'. -_

Sasuke was running through all the excuses Naruto had built up over the years for why he didn't want to see him- But under it all, there's only the tipsy, waving flag of remorse and guilt and the loneliness he hasn't admitted.

Naruto doesn't think it's merely the sharingan that allows Sasuke to find every secret he has kept- he doesn't want it to be that way, doesn't want it to be so technical, wants it to be something personal for more reasons than the index finger jabbed in a face and a laughing mouth. He thinks that Sasuke has been, has _always _been, more than just a friend or a rival or a bully. He's heard the meanings beneath all the insults, and still wonders over whether if he had accepted them from the beginning Sasuke wouldn't have left.

Although, Sasuke hasn't changed much, Naruto thinks- and it makes him smile through ducking down the corners of his lips into his jacket. Sasuke hasn't grown much, hasn't spoken much, hasn't mulled through the words Naruto's supplied him with much- and he still comes up short to Itachi in more ways than one. Naruto doesn't say this though, instead telling him to step inside and he'll make him dinner.

It's ramen, because Naruto likes to think Sasuke might understand the hidden meanings. Sasuke has always been good at supplying things, supplying anger, supplying hatred, supplying discontentment and superiority even while crouched in a bow at a serpent's feet, but Sasuke doesn't take things back. So Sasuke is left emptier and emptier, but Naruto will one day fill him in with all the pieces of himself.

It won't quite match up, there will be edges poking out that are sharp enough to cut them, and they will- but then maybe they won't feel so agonizingly hungry. It is not the type of hunger that ramen fills, not the warmth of a cup of hot tea, but they can hope that all the little secrets in between will mean something in the end.

_**Summary (dedicated to CatGurl2004, since she loves my summaries so much, shank ya shank ya, my dear): **And when Sasuke will accept his friendship, Naruto thinks it's all too much like ramen- because it never really fills you up. _

_**AN: **Haha, Naruto, yeah, sure, 'friendship'. Uhhuh. You KNOW that's not what you want. This one is dedicated, and especially the summary,** to CatGurl2004, because she is luverly and wonderful** and likes my works. And reviews more than any of YOU guys! Yeah, you know who you are. Uhhuh. This originally started a few months ago, when I hopped out of bed and wrote down the thing at the top in italics. It didn't really fit, but I liked it, so I stuck it in italics and kind of made it out as an introduction or something. I finally finished the idea, and was going to take it much further, adding in a scene with Sasuke and Naruto and BEDTIMES, but I like the ending and once I added more to it, it seemed like it was choppy or needed multi-chapters, and I'm not going to multi-chapter a drabble because I don't swing like that. Hmm, it seems slightly sloppy to me, but you tell me what you think. Please. PLEASE. PEAS AND CARROTS?_

_**REVIEW PLEASE!!!**_

(Yeah- You're addicted to these now. And you look through all my drabbles just to see them, wondering what the OTHER people's bubbles look like but searching, searching through mine thinking there'll be something clever, but there's NOT, just pleas for you to REVIEW me. You're better off just doing it. And I snagged this from a Blue Man Group performance, because I'm not original enough to come up with my own humor that's not just pure cheapness.  SO LONG!)


	9. Stronger

Whenever Ino yelled at anyone, they tended to watch her eyes.

Chouji didn't just notice Ino- he noticed everyone who knew her, and maybe it was some sort of clue to something he hadn't figured out yet; but in Konoha, there was hardly a couple who stayed together for long and asking that few percentage of them about his feelings for a girl that would never begin to think of them as such in the first place would be like trying to make Asuma quit cigarettes in his days or Naruto to give up his dream.

But maybe he should take the inspiration there, too, like so many other people and do what he's always done best by following behind. Maybe he should remember his dreams over and over until they're true, but things like Chouji's dreams are more than becoming the Hokage, because a heart is different from a chakra path.

His father tells him that chakra paths are a lot more complex.

But Chouji, he simply remains watching Ino and the people who watch her, and he's content with that- with knowing his dreams are as worthless as they are unchangeable and that while Naruto's dreams are chakra paths Chouji's are always something to do with hearts.

Chouji doesn't stare at Ino's breasts when she yells- he stares at her heart, and wonders if yelling makes it beat faster like it would if she were in love.

And Chouji knows that Ino is not a stupid girl- that if she were ever in love and yelling as she does now it's her chakra paths that are running, because chakra paths are more complex and somehow a lot easier to use.

He can almost remember why Ino told him he was stronger than her.

**_AN: Omfg (pardon my chat speak), I think I was unconsciously inspired by 'The One' by 'The Like' playing in the background. 'I'll never be the one you love, the one you love.'? Fuck, man. Give them some credit. 'I'm not shouting, I'm just talking.'? Help me Jesus!_**

**_Summary: Telling him to stop would be like telling Naruto to give up his dream- and maybe that's exactly why they know them; because Naruto is the ever-stubborn child and Chouji is just behind._**


End file.
